


The Bargaining Chip

by kaclydid



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 19:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10394187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaclydid/pseuds/kaclydid
Summary: Anon requested: @greenleaf-writings on tumblr: Imagine Thranduil and Legolas finding out that the Company took you to The Lonely Mountain for a negotiation. Your life for the Arkenstone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set in same AU as Home at Last

“He will give us nothing,” Bard starts as he reaches the gates where you and Thranduil sit, giving the horse he sits upon a short rest, and drawing your attention from the plains in front of you.

“A pity,” Thranduil starts, and his tone of voice has you looking back up to him, eyes wide. “Still you tried.”

“Thranduil, my King …” You started, adjusting in your seat slightly as you glance up to the Mountain, trying to reach out to your beloved. Your gaze flicks to the numbers of archers lined up behind you. 

You’re cut off by Bard asking Thranduil a question about risking war - much to your dismay - and as a lull comes after his question you open your mouth to protest, once again getting cut off by Thranduil’s reply. 

“It is fruitless to reason with them, they want only one thing,” he states, unsheathing the long sword strapped to his belt, and reining his elk around to face the city of Dale, chancing one last icy glare at the moment as he turned. “We attack at dawn! Are you with us?” he asked, not waiting for an answer as he spurs the elk back towards the city, leaving not only you, but Bard behind with a slight look of confusion, the elven troops stepping in time as they retreat back to camp.

\----  
As the hobbit lay out the stone for the group to gaze upon, you and Thranduil stood from your seats, while Bard stepped forward. 

“The heart of the mountain! The King’s Jewel,” Thranduil remarks, cool blue gaze fixed on the stone that seemed to glow in the candlelit tent. 

Gandalf’s eyes widen as he steps forward, silently regarding the Hobbit on the other side of the table. Your gaze trails to the halfling from the stone; he looks rather sheepish, almost ashamed of what he has brought before you. 

“And worth a king’s ransom,” Bard starts, looking from Thranduil, receiving a nod from him, back to the Hobbit and Arkenstone. “How is this yours to give?”

You watch as Bilbo steels himself. “I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure,” he replied. 

“Why would you do this?” Bard asked, matching Gandalf’s fond smile at the hobbit. “You owe us no loyalty.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” Bilbo responded. “I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult, suspicious and secretive …With the worst manners you can possibly imagine, but they are also brave and kind … and loyal to a fault,” he explained, meeting each of your gazes as he spoke, “I’ve grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can.”

You nodded as Bilbo finished his speech, his gaze moving to Thranduil’s, holding it as he continued. “Thorin values this stone above all else,” he started, motioning to the Arkenstone itself, “In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you are owed. There will be no need for war!”

\-----

No, no, no … This could not be happening! You thought as you raced to the edge of the gate. You were surrounded on all sides, weaponless, and without your armor. Dwarves and Erebor behind you, an army of elves and men before you. 

As Thranduil rode up to the front of the envoy of soldiers to find you not at your post, his heart sank. He glanced over to Bard as he rode up, hand moving to his coat to make sure the stone sat safely in his pocket. Glancing back to your second in command, he glared at the elf, whom only muttered a soft apology in response.

As Thorin’s arrow flew, the familiar sound of a bowstring filling your ears, you bit back a curse, eyes trailing down to where your beloved sat, a full army of elves behind his back, waiting for a command. From your spot, you knew they couldn’t see you, they didn’t know you had been taken. Kidnapped from under the noses of your guards, soldiers, and lover. Plucked out of the camp by two bumbling dwarves.

Thorin had explained the truth of the situation early that morning to you; “You are what he values most. A fair trade, I think, for what I value most. We do not want war unless needed.”

As the Kings of the three armies argued back and forth, you saw the army of elves part, and Legolas ride up to his father, bowing his chin as he spoke softly to him. Thranduil’s gaze flew up to the battlements of Erebor as Legolas finished speaking, and you saw realization dawn on his face as Bard lowered the Arkenstone back to his breast pocket. 

“The King may have it,” Bard nodded, voice echoing through the quiet plains. “If he honor his word.”

Thranduil shifted uneasily in his saddle, his gaze trained on the upper gate where the company of dwarves sat. Although you were far up the mountain, you recognized the hurt expression he wore. Pleading silently, you shook your head as you turned to look down to the dwarves standing about the battlements. 

“Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain!” his voice boomed, and your head popped up, eyes wide as you heard his voice. “If you are even suited for that title now!”

“Ada?” Legolas prodded, brows furrowing as he looked over to his father, his gaze flicking back to the gate where he knew you to be standing. 

“What are you doing?” Bard hissed, shifting in his seat, trying to keep his gaze on the gate to Erebor. “We’ve got our leverage, we must leave! Else war will come!” His pony shifted underfoot, forcing him a step closer to the side of Thranduil’s elk. 

“War will come,” Thranduil answered, voice low so only his son and Bard could hear. “Thorin, son of Thrain, you’ve made yourself out to be a rather ill-fitted King Under the Mountain,” he started once more, icy gaze boring into Bard before turning to the mountain, “Kidnapping is a rather egregious offence!” 

You knew Thranduil had learned of your predicament, although unsure as to how. Thranduil’s gaze shifted along the gate to find you sitting there, behind a line of Dwarves, all ready to wage war over a stupid rock. Your fair hair and silken robes a stark contrast against the architecture of Erebor. Standing there, staring down at he Elven King, you knew Thranduil would stop at nothing if you were ever hurt. 

“You speak of false truths!” Thorin answered simply, glancing over to you. 

“You daft little dwarf,” you scoffed, shrugging away from Bilbo’s hand on your arm to try to calmly hold you back. Through this, you had made one friend from the company at least. The hobbit left little to be desired, but you trusted the halfling from the moment he presented the Arkenstone to Thranduil and Bard. “You think he will not storm these gates for my safe return?” you asked, “You have signed away your life, Thorin Oakenshield.”

He turned on you, eyes boring into yours. He only came up to about your waist, having to crane his neck back to look at you properly as you weren’t about to stoop to face him at eye level. “HE wanted war the moment he found the Arkenstone in his possession! As far as I am concerned, you are in the safest place if war is to come.”

You smiled, holding yourself as regally as if you were attending court in the halls of Mirkwood. “Then prepare to wait,” you answered. “As you shall remember, an elven lifetime is long. We can wait; for war, for death. Either way you go, Thranduil will not part with the stone as long as I stand here in your halls.”

\---

“How?” Legolas asked as he jumped from his horse, Tauriel coming up behind him from the troops. “Why is she up there?” he asked, pushing past his father to face Bard. 

Thranduil turned to Gandalf, anger rising but holding it at bay. “Mithrandir, you’ve vouched for those dwarves long enough. War comes at dawn.”

Gandalf nodded, knowing this hadn’t worked out the way any of them had planned. “There is much more trouble coming then just that, old friend,” he murmured, bowing his head slightly.

Bard stepped up, motioning back to the mountain as they entered Thranduil’s tent. “What is going on?” he asked, looking over to Legolas. 

“The deal has changed, Dragonslayer,” Thranduil started, turning on him. 

“An army of Orcs from Gundabad ride for the mountain. It is only a miracle we made it back before them,” Legolas started, interrupting Bard’s thought. Stepping to his father, “She does not know,” he added.

Thranduil nodded in agreement. “Thorin not only holds gems I long for inside that mountain, but a much more precious belonging. He has stolen the Queen from her tent; from under the noses of our watches, and he shall pay.”

Bard gulped, knowing already who was on watch last night. He glanced back up to Legolas. “How long do we have?”

“We are out of time for negotiations,” Legolas answered, meeting Thranduil’s gaze once more. 

“We must save ourselves now,” Gandalf nodded solemnly. 

“Ada,” Legolas started, stepping to his father’s side. “She will be killed if she is not warned,” he started, changing from the Common tongue to Elvish. 

Thranduil bowed his head. You had spent years away from him, you knew he would never let you leave him like that again, and so did your son. If Thorin wanted your life in exchange for the Arkenstone, then he would have it. “Find her,” he ordered his son, glancing over to Tauriel in the opening of the tent. “Find her and bring her back. Oakenshield will not keep her.”

Bard’s brow raised as Thranduil turned to him. “What is it?” he asked, having not understood a word the two had spoken. 

“There is a new problem,” Thranduil started. “No more time for negotiations, as my son has said. He must have the Arkenstone.”


End file.
